


Changes, Big and Small

by Caedmon



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Happy Ending, Mild Angst, Post Regeneration, Post-Episode: s01e14 The Christmas Invasion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 03:46:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8952610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caedmon/pseuds/Caedmon
Summary: The Doctor finds Rose in her room at her mother's flat, flipping through old pictures. They spark a conversation and some unexpected results.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Person_with_a_cool_name](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Person_with_a_cool_name/gifts).



> This fic is my Secret Santa gift for person-with-a-cool-name on tumblr! Merry Christmas, I hope you like it! 
> 
> The plot bunny came from TimePetalsPrompts - _Rose tells some stories for a change, when the Doctor catches her going through old photos from her childhood._

The Doctor had gotten into the habit of letting himself into Rose’s mother’s flat since they landed at Christmas just after his regeneration a few days ago. Jackie seemed to like this version of him much better than she had the last version, and while he was a little offended on behalf of his ninth self, he was quite relieved that he no longer seemed to have to worry about her slapping hand. 

He closed the door behind himself, locking it as had been requested by the women of the flat, and stepped into the hallway. The flat was quiet - an unusual circumstance that he’d never encountered before. Usually the telly was on and Jackie was puttering around in the kitchen...some sort of background noise that somehow made the flat feel more homey. “Rose?”

“In here,” she called out in reply. He followed the sound of her voice into her room, where she was sitting cross-legged on the bed with a box open in front of her. Photos littered the area around her, and she was flipping through a stack. 

“What are you doing?” he asked, leaning against the doorjamb casually, crossing his arms and ankles.

“Just taking a little stroll down memory lane. Found some old pictures while I was rooting around for clothes to take with us when we leave,” she answered absently without looking up. 

Curiosity got the better of him. “Anything interesting?”

“Not to you,” she replied, then looked up and caught the flash of hurt on his face. She smiled a little, and he felt soothed. He always did when she looked at him like that. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that the way it came out. I just meant that my life was incredibly boring before I took off with you. That’s all.”

“Oh, I doubt it was boring, Rose Tyler,” he chided, his mildly wounded feelings forgotten. The Doctor pushed off the door and came over to her bed, hesitating only a moment before he told her to budge over and had a seat beside her. Rose accommodated him and he crossed his legs as well, mimicking her. He peered over her shoulder at the photo in her hand. She was standing arm-in-arm with a young woman, also bottle-blonde, and they were dressed to go out. He’d seen those types of outfits before on his Rose, had had a hell of a time pretending that they didn’t catch his interest, and spent most of the time she was wearing them trying not to stare and let on just how madly in love he was with her.

He pointed at the other woman in the picture. “Who’s that?”

“That’s Shareen,” she answered, holding the picture at a better angle for him to see. “She’s been my best mate since I was a kid. Well,” she corrected herself. “My best mate besides Mickey.”

Another flash of hurt and jealousy shot through him, but he did his best to tamp it down. Rose had ended things with Mickey months ago, in Cardiff. There was no reason for him to be jealous: especially considering he had no claim over her. She wasn’t his, not by a long shot. But if wishing made it so…

“She lives around here?” he changed the subject before his thoughts could run wild.

Rose nodded. “The next building over, unless she’s moved. I haven’t talked to her in a while.”

He noted the sad tone to her voice and pursed his lips. “Why don’t you ring her up and the two of you can go out while we’re in town? It’ll be a couple more days before the TARDIS is ready to fly. You really did a number on my ship.” He winked, attempting to reassure her (again) that he was not remotely upset about what she had done - quite the contrary, he was eternally grateful to her for saving his worthless hide.

She shook her head. “Too many uncomfortable questions that I wouldn’t be able to answer. Besides, she’d want to meet you.”

The Doctor shrugged. “I wouldn't mind meeting her.” 

Rose spun her head around to look at him. Her eyes were searching, assessing, sharp. “You really are different, aren’t you?”

Fear gripped him for a moment. He was different, yes, but there was more to him that _hadn’t_ changed. Still, he couldn’t deny that he would be different, quite a bit different sometimes. 

He knew that this regeneration had jarred her and he did his best to understand that, to understand the reticence she showed sometimes. She’d agreed to travel with him again (thank Rassilon), and he was comforted by that. He didn’t know what he’d do without her. She was his safe harbor, his calm in the Oncoming Storm. 

But he wouldn’t be what she had gotten used to. That worried him. When he’d asked if he was good different or bad different, she’d not committed to an answer. It had been too soon for her to know what he’d be like, of course. It had been too soon for _him_ to know what he’d be like. But he couldn't help wishing she’d given him some idea of her thoughts. 

“Yes, I’m different,” he acknowledged. “But I’m not so different. I still have all my memories, all my thoughts, all my emotions.” _And I still love you._

She just watched him with her sharp gaze for a few more moments before she gave a tiny nod and turned back to her pictures. There were photos of her at various ages doing several things. One showed a very young Rose in a leotard standing beside a balance beam, wearing a medal and holding flowers. 

“I won the bronze,” she said proudly, handing him the photo. “I don’t think I ever told you that.”

“You did,” he answered. “Your mum must have been very proud.”

Rose nodded. “She was. _I_ was. For a little while there I was treated like something special, and people clapped for me. I felt clever. Talented.”

“You _are_ clever and talented, Rose.”

She shook her head, disbelieving, not looking at him. “Nah. But thank you.”

The Doctor knew that telling her differently would only embarrass and agitate her, so he didn’t. He simply resolved to _show_ her just how special she was. 

“What about this one?” he asked, reaching for another picture. Rose was in a formal gown: strapless, black and beaded, her hair perfectly coiffed and her makeup done expertly. She was on the arm of a blonde bloke. 

“That’s my formal,” she told him. “I was sixteen.”

“You look beautiful.”

“For a human?”

“For anyone.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to see that he meant it. 

She smiled after a moment and looked back down at the picture. “There’s another difference between this you and the old you. The old you wasn’t exactly throwing around the compliments. Not without qualifiers, anyway.”

“I was a fool,” the Doctor said without any hesitation. “A stupid fool. And believe you me, I wanted to tell you just how beautiful you were. Are. Just didn’t have the nerve.” He grinned and affected a northern accent. “Coward, me.”

Rose grinned a little. “I may have to get you to do that more often.”

“Do what?”

“Your old accent.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’ll miss your voice.”

Another stab of jealousy for his old self. He pushed it away: nothing he could do about it now. 

Deciding to change the subject again, he pointed to the bloke in the picture. “Who’s that with you?”

Her face darkened and her posture stiffened. “Jimmy Stone,” she said in a lower, more serious voice than he was used to from her. “Prat of the universe.”

This grave attitude didn’t sit well with him, and he tried for a joke. “You’ve seen a lot of the universe, Rose Tyler. Surely he can’t be the biggest prat."

"He is."

"Can't be that bad, if you saw good in him.”

“No, he really was that bad. Had me fooled to begin with. I didn’t see him for what he really was until it was too late.” She stared at the picture, her eyes hard. “I dropped out of school just after this was taken.” 

There was nothing he could say to that, so he just let the silence linger until she was ready to go on. “He was a failed musician, but I believed he could make it big. He had me believing it. It took me a while to catch on that he was full of shit.”

“But you caught on,” he comforted her. “That’s something.”

“Not until he had run up a credit card bill buying sound equipment then took off, leaving me with eight hundred quid in debt and a bedsit I wanted nothing to do with.” She sighed. “I came back home to mum not long after he left.” 

She was somber, sad when she spoke again. “Everybody leaves.”

Her tone made him feel as if he’d been punched in the chest, right between the hearts. She sounded so morose... yet sure of herself, like she truly believed that no one would ever stick around for her. 

“Rose, that’s not true,” he said, almost pleading with her.

“It is,” she insisted. “The only person that’s ever stuck around was my mum. Even Mickey comes and goes.”

“I’m not coming and going,” he insisted.

She turned and looked at him with sad eyes. “You _did_ leave, Doctor. You changed.”

A slap from Jackie would have been preferable to the slap from those words. “I didn’t leave. It’s still me.”

Rose nodded, and he wasn’t sure she believed him. 

“What will it take to make you believe that I’m still me and I’m not going to leave you?”

She shrugged. “Time, I suppose. I’ll get used to all this,” she waved her hand to indicate him, “to you. Just need time.” 

It was unfair of him to ask and he knew he shouldn’t. That didn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “How long?”

Her laugh came out on a breath, but it didn’t sound like mirth. “I don’t know, do I? You're so different. The you before was... He..." She shook her head. "I just -”

That was enough. He wasn’t willing to wait anymore, and he couldn’t let her go on thinking what she was probably thinking: that he didn’t care, that he wasn’t madly in love with her and had been from that first day. Even if she _wasn't_ thinking that, he couldn't wait another moment. He reached up and put his hand on her cheek, turning her head towards him. Her eyes were surprised for a moment, but he didn’t give her time to protest before he pressed his lips to hers. 

The kiss was everything a first kiss should be, he thought. Gentle but firm, shy but not hesitant, sure and steady. His lips moved over hers, parting a little, and after a moment he felt her lips come to life under his. His other hand came up to cup the other cheek, framing her face, and he set about coaxing her into parting her lips for him. When she did, he slowly and gently let his tongue explore her mouth a bit. Rose’s head tilted to the side to get a better angle, and he tilted his as well, deepening the kiss further. She tasted of tea, temptation, and time, and he felt his self-control straining. One hand slid back, carding his fingers through her hair on the back of her head, keeping her close. She broke the kiss after a few moments to breathe, and he was surprised to note that he was out of breath, too. Unwilling to separate from her just yet, he lay his forehead against hers while he caught his breath, their noses touching. 

“What was that?” she whispered, sounding a bit strangled, pulling back a little to look into his eyes. She looked confused, but not displeased. He let his hand leave her head reluctantly, taking her hands in his.

“That was our first kiss, Rose Tyler.” 

“Our first?” He couldn’t name the look in her eyes this time. He dared to think it was hopeful. 

“The first of many. Hundreds. Thousands. As many as you’ll let me have. That is, if you want.” 

She nodded, and he grinned. “I’ve always wanted. But that’s not going to convince me that you’re the same man.”

“I’m the same, but different. Maybe the changes are for the better. Maybe I’ll be more of what you need. Less grumpy, less of a prat. Maybe I’m a little braver this time. But I have to tell you...the me before...he loved you desperately.”

Rose’s breath caught in her throat and she looked at him with wide eyes. “And you, Doctor?”

He leaned in to press a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. “That's one area where nothing has changed.”

Rose flushed and looked down at their joined hands. “The you from before never would have kissed me.”

“Oh, Rose, you have no idea how close I came a couple of times. I was desperate to, but didn’t think you’d welcome it.”

“I would have,” she said quietly, then bit her lip.

His voice was quiet when he spoke again. “Do you welcome it now?” She nodded and bit her lip a little. “Good,” he said, then swept back in for another kiss.


End file.
